


Follow My Lead

by Bloodsbane



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Chases, Edging, Established Relationship, F/F, Play Fighting, Predator/Prey, Stalking, The Hunt, Vaginal Fingering, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-20
Updated: 2020-02-20
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:08:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22812829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bloodsbane/pseuds/Bloodsbane
Summary: This would be better for Daisy, if she was intent on playing, but there’s no sense left in her to toy with her prey. She wants Basira.
Relationships: Basira Hussain/Alice "Daisy" Tonner
Comments: 11
Kudos: 132





	Follow My Lead

**Author's Note:**

> this was somewhat inspired by a comment in the writer's discord, but i've actually been wanting to write something centered on The Hunt for a little while anyway! 
> 
> before we begin, though, some quick cws:
> 
> > daisy does stalk/watch/lust over basira from a distance for the first half  
> > there's a chase, followed by a struggle (play fighting); this is all an established 'scene' that both characters are fully consenting to. however,  
> > there's an underlying theme of daisy being just on the edge of the Hunt's influence, so if stuff like heavy temptation at going 'too far' squicks you out, maybe be careful? 
> 
> overall, just know that it's a relationship with pre-established consent for all events that occur throughout 
> 
> lastly, a huge thank you to zykaben for beta reading~

The game always starts the same. 

It's Saturday; neither of them works today or tomorrow. Basira is at the shop when Daisy gets there, and they share a light breakfast of coffee and bagels. Daisy makes Basira split a pastry with her. They don't talk about their plans, mutual or otherwise. 

Basira leaves first. Her hand is warm against Daisy's shoulder when she asks, "Be seeing you?"

Usually, Daisy just nods. Today, she can feel it -- that edge. The anticipation. 

So she smiles, just briefly, showing a hint of teeth. "If you're lucky."

Basira, eyes dark, departs without another word. 

Daisy watches her go through the clean glass window. Then, just after her partner disappears around the corner, Daisy gets up to follow. 

The streets of London are busy, but Daisy is tall, and she could never lose Basira in a crowd. She watches her partner weave carefully through the mass of bodies, her broad shoulders never knocking into anyone. Her vivid blue headscarf reminds Daisy of the head of a snake. She follows, careful to keep her distance. 

Early on, it’s easy to see Basira is running her usual errands: book store, department building, groceries. She changes her usual paths, though, and Daisy has to improvise when Basira cuts through the park, doing her best to guess at where her partner will reappear once she’s made her way through the open area. It’s a preference rather than a rule, but Daisy sticks to the buildings as much as possible. 

She’s good, though. It’d be pathetic if she wasn’t by now, with how often they’ve played this little game. Basira is exactly where Daisy expects to find her, and together they continue on to the precinct. Daisy waits outside, far away and tucked into the dark so none of their colleagues will notice her. She wonders idly what Basira is in there for -- paperwork? More of those tapes she thinks Daisy doesn’t know she’s smuggling to that institute? The blonde woman shakes her head, resolutely pushing those thoughts away, and focuses instead on the doors. Now really isn’t the time. 

When Basira exits the building she is unburdened and continues on her way at an easy pace. Daisy expects her to pick up some groceries, head home to drop them off, then take her car out. What she doesn’t expect is for Basira to escape her tail so fast. 

It’s not surprising, exactly; it’s all part of the game. Basira knows she’s following, of course, but she doesn’t always try to slip from Daisy’s watch. This time, though, Daisy loses her in the middle of a little used bookstore in an unfamiliar part of town. Basira had spent at least twenty minutes in there before disappearing into the back, beyond the view of the front window. When Daisy finally went inside after five minutes, she’d failed to relocate her partner. 

Like a flame stoked by a sudden gust of wind, Daisy feels the heat that’s been simmering in her gut become a proper flare. She stands up straighter. Her senses feel sharper than just moments before. Daisy rubs at the sharp end of one tooth with the pad of her thumb and thinks on what to do next.

She starts with the clerk at the front. Daisy hadn’t seen Basira buy a book before she’d come in searching, but when she flashes her badge and gives her partner’s description, the clerk does admit to seeing her leave, pointing Daisy in the same direction they’d come from. Daisy does not thank him, merely slips out of the store and takes a deep breath and tries not to let the excitement show on her face. 

There are a total of four places Basira likes to go to do her grocery shopping. Daisy checks the nearest one first, but something in her gut tells her it’s the wrong choice. She doesn’t bother going inside, instead standing across the street and watching the doors open and close. She considers: it’s a Saturday; Basira usually buys essentials like milk or eggs during the weekday. On weekends, she’s more likely to stock up on things like spices or fruits and vegetables. Daisy tries to remember what she last saw in her partner’s fridge, tries to recall any empty spots on the counter… 

A gentle breeze wakes Daisy up, and she immediately speed-walks to her next destination.

She finds Basira in the marketplace about forty minutes later. It’s a wide street with vendors stationed along each side, messy awnings casting dark shadows in the late afternoon sunlight. Daisy had just stepped over a child and barely avoided kicking someone’s dog when she spots Basira, head bent, talking to a vendor as she inspects a jar of something. Knowing her, it’s probably that pepper jam stuff she likes so much. Daisy attempts to fade into the background. It’s not as easy here; she’s very aware of her pale skin, her height, her blond hair and blue-green eyes. 

She picks a spot downwind, just behind the corner of a stone building, and watches Basira. Just watches, for now, as she lets the satisfaction of relocating her target buzz through the marrow of her bones. A part of Daisy is already satisfied. She wants to go over to Basira now, stand beside her, tease her about her outlandish taste in jams. Wants to walk with her, present and protective, as they explore the market street with its rich colors and exotic goods. Inevitably, Daisy will kick someone’s dog, and Basira will snort a laugh, and when the owner tries to give Daisy shit for it, Basira will scold them right back for not keeping their mutt on a leash. 

Daisy has a sense there’s a joke to be found in that thought, but there’s no time to catch it when Basira starts moving once again. 

Basira doesn’t see Daisy, of that the blonde makes sure. They make their way, separate yet together, along the street. Daisy watches Basira stop to chat with certain vendors and thinks that she loves seeing her like this. It’s one thing to be with Basira, to be by her side. And watching her is familiar -- Daisy does it all the time. She keeps an eye when they’re out in the field together, always wary, always ready for trouble and glad to find it, but only when she knows her partner is within sight. The two women have been partners for years now, and Daisy knows every angle of Basira, but like this- 

When she doesn’t know Daisy is watching, it’s different. Daisy always finds her, yes, but how long can it take, really? After losing her tail, Basira can never truly be sure when she’s found again. So she goes on as if alone, and she can’t sense Daisy’s eyes on her, because they do not intrude -- they already belong there. 

And her movement. Daisy watches raptly the turn of Basira’s wrist. She loves those hands, dark and smooth, yielding light when she turns to reveal those weathered palm. She’s inspecting a piece of fabric, running it between long fingers with carefully manicured, shiny nails, unpainted. The blue of her scarf catches the fading orange light and she is dazzling, even from afar. 

Daisy’s marrow is heavy with it. Her blood sings with it, that familiar song, and it is so hard to keep a steady pace when they finally leave and Basira goes home. Daisy’s heart is a steady drum beat and she fights the rhythm of it, tries not to get swept up. She could do it _now_. Has done it, before, when she got too impatient. It had been good, but not in the way she knew it would be if she waited. Besides, Basira hadn’t appreciated having her front door lock broken. So Daisy sits and waits until she sees Basira leave the house, climb into her car, and head off.

There’s no point in going home to get her car. Daisy takes a bus to the edge of town, then runs until she’s at their usual spot. By the time she arrives, she’s slightly winded, and what’s left of the sun is cut into useless strips by tall trees. But her run was long and easy, and her muscles feel good, and the energy that’s been building up all day carries her into the trees.

Basira’s car is parked, locked, and neatly abandoned in a small off-road stop. Daisy takes a minute to glance inside. It’s mostly empty, and Basira definitely took her gun with her -- good. Then Daisy’s gaze falls to the ground and she begins to track. 

There aren’t many footprints, and Basira’s are easy to spot. They start at the driver’s side, then head west. Daisy, already breathing more heavily with the proper start of her hunt, nearly darts from the clearing without a second thought. Then she re-examines the footprints and the spaces between each. It looks like Basira walked all the way from her door to the trees at the exact same pace. And- Daisy crouches, staring hard at the depth of the prints. Too uniform, too clean. Careful. 

Daisy goes back to the car, where the footprints start, and then gives the vehicle another once over. It’s then that she notices dirt on the hood, barely visible in the dusk of late evening. When she leans forward, Daisy catches Basira’s scent where a drop of sweat was smeared across the dark surface of her car.

The attempt at deception only makes Daisy grin. She’s out there, her clever Basira, headed east, and she’s already stalled Daisy by minutes. The woman licks her lips, staring out into the dark of the trees. She hopes Basira has her flashlight, but knows that her partner will refuse to use it for at least another hour. 

_As if this will take so long,_ Daisy thinks, and the heat is all over now, like pins and needles, nearly painful, and then she’s running. She runs into the forest and it feels like home, it feels like nowhere she’s ever been in her life, it feels like the soft, shady hollow of Basira’s neck. Daisy breathes deeply and evenly, constantly, each exchale a rugged gasp that’s near a growl. She can taste her prey on the roof of her mouth. 

For twenty minutes, she runs almost nonstop. The few times Daisy allows herself to slow, she paces through the trees, inspecting branches and leaf litter and listening out for any animals. There are some night creatures creeping about, but they scurry off when Daisy catches them in her gaze. Restless, she jogs in circles until she can taste her again, and then Daisy is running. 

She knows there will be no surprise with her approach, no subtlety, no hope for an ambush. Basira will hear her coming from kilometers away. It’s impossible to mask the weight of her footfalls, the growl in her breaths. How the earth rumbles beneath Daisy as she hunts. Can Basira feel the tremors? Even now, when Daisy hasn’t seen a hint of that blue headscarf -- does she know Daisy is near?

Now, finally, Daisy lets her mind run wild. She imagines Basira running, can practically see the way she looks dodging through the trees. The moon is high and bright, but it still casts deceptive shadows across the ground. Will Basira stumble? Or will she leap over each and every pitfall, long legs carrying her across the distance? Will she collide with the trunk of a tree? Or will she weave through them as smoothly as a serpent, her shoulders twisting in that way that gets Daisy’s mouth watering?

A noise drags Daisy from her daydreams; the echo of a _snap_ , followed by a muffled curse. Immediately, Daisy catches a tree and uses her momentum to swing from the trunk, changing direction by about forty degrees. She’s running slightly downhill, now, and she feels her speed increase with every thunderous step, the shocks erupting throughout her body to match the pounding beat of her heart. 

_There she is._

Daisy can see her, tall and fit and beautiful, melting in and out of the shadows. She can smell Basira’s sweat, so sweet, hear her breathing, over-fast from exertion, heavy but steady, louder as Daisy gains ground, gasping, cursing-

When Daisy lunges, she’s almost surprised -- she hadn’t even realized how close she’d gotten. Basira stops and twists abruptly, dodging Daisy’s clumsy attempt at a grapple, and bolts downhill. Daisy, who had nearly tripped, recovers quickly and is on her heels in a matter of seconds. 

This would be better for Daisy, if she was intent on playing, but there’s no sense left in her to toy with her prey. She _wants_ Basira. She wants to grab Basira, to hold her -- they haven’t touched since this morning. So many hours between then and now, such a long stretch without her, within sight but beyond Daisy’s grasp, but Daisy can have her now. Right now! If only she could-

Once again, Basira shifts, and before Daisy knows it she’s forced to break her own fall. Instincts and training are the only things that save her from eating shit when Basira trips her, and Daisy just barely manages to protect her face from the rotten end of a broken branch when she hits the ground. 

Basira does not wait for her, does not ask after her, only runs. Daisy lets out a cry of fury and scrambles to her feet. She feels prickly-skinned, _too fucking hot_ , even as the cold night consumes them. Daisy stumbles along on all fours for a moment, a bit dizzy with it all -- her indignance, her anger, her love and arousal, and something else, deep and dark. It is the dark thing that gets her to her feet, that makes her run, that helps her find Basira. Daisy can taste her. She is so, so hungry for her. 

When Basira turns into an open patch of land, only sparsely wooded with a stream cutting across the middle, Daisy knows this is the end. She does not slow as she bursts from the trees, and Basira only attempts to run for a few meters before ducking once again in an attempt to change course. 

Daisy’s arm snaps out, catching Basira’s wrist. Basira might be agile, but Daisy is heavy and solid and her grip is resolute. A second later, Basira is twisting at the hip, trying to draw Daisy in close enough to elbow her in the chest or stomach. Daisy growls and throws her other arm around Basira’s shoulders, taking the hit to her ribs. Then she falls onto her back and takes Basira down with her. 

There’s a brief struggle there in the grass. At one point Basira nearly gets to her feet again, but Daisy grabs her ankle and drags her back. When Basira uses her other foot to kick, Daisy grabs that one too, and soon she is between Basira’s legs and she is over her and she has caught her, she has won, and Basira is gasping beneath her and she is beautiful. Daisy makes a sound, some wild thing halfway between a growl and a moan, some mindlessly animal thing, and then she is in that secret dark at Basira’s neck and she is gone. 

Daisy can feel herself rutting against Basira’s thigh; it’s clumsy and offers so little satisfaction, but she’s too busy biting and licking and sucking. Basira’s voice is weak from her run, broken and reedy -- no one would hear her, if she tried to call for help. Daisy has caught her. She is trapped, and she will be taken. It is Daisy’s prize; she has won their game. 

She feels Basira’s fist tugging at the front of her dress shirt, equal parts push and pull. Daisy finally pulls back from her partner’s neck long enough to rip her shirt open. She spares no thought for the buttons or fabric, tossing it all aside. Basira’s hands are already beneath her bra. Daisy grunts, pulling them away so she can unzip Basira’s jacket. 

Soon they’re both bare from the waist up, and Basira’s mouth is trembling against Daisy’s, and oh, how she could cry with the taste of her. Basira still hasn’t caught her breath, not quite, and no doubt she’ll be breathless by the end of it. Daisy tries to be slow for her, dragging open palms down the expanse of her shoulders and back with gentle, loving movements. Chest to chest, they pant and moan against each other, there in the grass, in the dark of night. Daisy’s blood is singing. It is a dark secret beneath her flesh, unknown and ravenous. Daisy leaves Basira’s mouth to bite at her neck and shoulders. She teases the woman’s breasts. She pins her partner down and just- just for a moment- thinks _I must devour her._

Instead, she dips a hand past Basira’s waistband. Daisy drags more sounds from her lips, wispy crumbling things, barely-there exclamations of tired desperation. Each sends a pulse of black satisfaction through Daisy’s entire body. The pad of her thumb covers the entirety of Basira’s clit and is relentless. Two fingers deep, she curls her hand, and Basira sobs _Daisy_ , sighs _Please_ , and she is so beautiful. Daisy presses mouth to skin, so hungry, she wants every inch of Basira beneath her teeth and claws and shadow. The moonlight has them now, though, soft silver-blue. The sky is deep and brilliant with stars and beneath it, Daisy fucks Basira with her fingers and wants for blood. 

There is a hand in her hair. Daisy makes a sound, something so very animal, and pitiful, and when Basira’s legs resolutely close around her hand, when she can hear Basira’s voice in her ear (so faint so fragile barely there), Daisy realizes she’s crying. 

Basira kisses her. Tucks Daisy’s face into her neck, beneath the loose silk cavern of her mussed headscarf. Let’s the weight of Daisy’s breasts and stomach settle against her own. Then Basira shoves her hand down Daisy’s pants and it takes no time at all, to bring her along. Basira would never leave Daisy behind. 

There’s a soft breeze against Daisy’s back. She traps Basira against her, tucked just slightly beneath, so that the light of the moon cannot touch her lovely hair. It’s caught instead by Daisy’s broad back, her soft round shoulders. The scar on her back is pale and bright as a star, exposed to all the dark, but the dark has not something to fear. This is where the hunt wanders, where it runs and makes love and feasts. 

“We should head home,” Basira says eventually, and Daisy has to close her eyes and take a deep breath before she can let her go. 

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed~


End file.
